


A Little Eff'ed Up

by Not__Misha__Collins



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abandonment, Gen, M/M, Past Child Abuse, implications of sam/dean, nothing actually happens, ooc sam winchester, sorry to dissapoint, technically good parent John
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-08
Updated: 2018-03-10
Packaged: 2019-03-28 15:07:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13906602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Not__Misha__Collins/pseuds/Not__Misha__Collins
Summary: John gave up Sam and Dean for adoption shortly after Mary died. They were separated into foster care, until reuniting while Sam was at Stanford. The Sam that Dean meets isn't the Sam we (fans) are used to...Hardened by years of abuse and mistreatment, Sam acts unfeeling to the point that people sometimes think he's a psychopath.





	1. Chapter 1

Nine-year-old Sam, chained in the basement by his “parents,” stared at the cement floor. He was waiting to be allowed upstairs for dinner and playtime. One hour to eat and then play outside, and back to the basement. He sleeps there, lives there.  
“Hey,” A gruff voice spoke, “Time for dinner.”  
A smile slipped across the boy’s face.  
…  
Flash forward a few years, and Sam is in college. Stanford. He was studying to be a lawyer. Everything was starting to look up for him after he left his parents behind. Ran away, more like. But, one day, there was a fire, and his girlfriend Jess died. He swore it was a dream, that he was imagining things…but, she burned on the ceiling. The image stayed with him, and he went down to the bar to try to forget.  
“Sam?” He jumped at his name being used, “Sam Winchester?”  
Turning around, he saw a brown-haired twenty-something man looking at him. He’s pretty, Sam thought. Who was he, and how did he know Sam’s old last name?  
“Who are you?” Sam demanded.  
“Dean Winchester,” The man answered, “Your brother.”  
“I don’t have a brother,” The younger man commented simply.  
“You don’t remember me,” Dean sighed, “Can’t blame you. Last time we saw each other, you were a baby. When Dad gave us up.”  
Sam downed a shot of whiskey, soaking in the burn as it flowed past his throat, then ordered another.  
“Sit,” He handed Dean the whiskey, “Talk.”  
Dean pulled a seat next to Sam.  
“When you were a baby, there was a fire in your nursery,” He began, “And our mother died. And Dad, he couldn’t take it, Started going crazy, yelling and losing his temper. So, he gave us up, figured we’d be safer in the system I guess.”  
“We got separated,” Sam concluded.  
“Yeah,” Dean affirmed, “Been trying to find you for years. Last I heard from you was this necklace you sent me.”  
Sam looked at the golden amulet hanging on Dean’s neck.  
“Well, you found me,” The younger one said, “Now what?”  
Dean looked at Sam as if that was the weirdest question anyone had ever asked him.  
“I just…wanted to see how you were,” He said, “See if you were okay, if you were even…alive.”  
“Alive, yes. Don’t know about okay.”  
“Did you get moved around a lot?”  
Sam paused, the memories returning, “No. Not really.”  
Dean nodded.  
“What have you been up to? You know, in the past decade or so?”  
“I’m in college. Harvard.”  
“Sounds fun.”  
“And you?”  
“You wouldn’t believe me.”  
“I’d believe anything after what just happened?”  
“What happened?”  
“There was this fire, and my girlfriend Jess…died.”  
“Damn, man, I’m sorry. Really.”  
“It’s okay. But that wasn’t the strangest part,” Sam paused, “It was like…she was on the ceiling.”  
“That’s what Dad always said happened to our mom. Always thought he was crazy, rambling on about demons and monsters.”  
‘Monster.’ Sam knew that word, and he knew it well. His ‘parents’, coming home after killing some monster. Covered in blood, they’d explain to Sam that he was no better than the things they killed. That it was why he had to be locked away.  
“Monsters?” Sam asked, “My parents hunted monsters.”  
The word felt like bile coming up, and he hated using it to describe them.  
“They were hunters?” Dean asked.  
Sam just nodded, visibly finished with the subject. Thankfully, Dean picked up the hint and cleared his throat.  
“Anyway, we should catch up,” Dean scribbled his number onto a piece of paper and handed it to Sam, “Here’s my number. We’ve got a lot to discuss.”  
The younger one pocketed the number and watched his newly discovered brother as he left. If he hadn’t just lost Jess, and you know, the whole long-lost brother thing...This number would serve a whole different purpose.


	2. Chapter 2

Dean sat behind the wheel of his Impala, the one that used to be his Dad’s. The very same dad who’d given them up is the same one who’d somehow found Dean and gifted him the Impala for his 18th birthday. Of course, he apologized for leaving them, stating he had good reasons. And Dean promptly told him where he could stick that apology. Still, the car ran pretty damn well, looked pretty good for its age.   
It’d been two days since he’d met his younger brother for the first time in well over a decade. The guy was massive, nearly a whole head taller than Dean. As he reviewed the man’s features, he began to daydream. His little brother, all grown up. Shaking his head free of thoughts, he played the voicemail.  
“Hey, Dean. It’s…it’s Sam. I’ve been thinking about when we talked at the bar. I always wanted a brother, and…We should get together sometime and talk, get to know each other. Call me back.”  
He pressed call back on the phone and waited for it to ring.  
“Hello?” Sam answered.  
“Sam?”  
“Yeah.”  
“I got your voicemail,” Dean said, “The one about meeting somewhere. Are you busy tomorrow?”  
“What time?”  
“Three, four.”  
“No,” Sam confirmed, “No, that’s fine. Where do you want to meet?”  
“You know that burger place? What’s it called, uh…”  
“Cheesy Charlie’s?”  
“Yeah. The one on your campus.”  
“Sure. Tomorrow, around three, Cheesy Charlie’s. Got it. Anything else?”  
“No, that’s it. I’ll see you then.”  
…  
Sam tapped his fingers on the restaurant table as he waited for his salad. Dean was a bit late, so Sam ordered for himself. Perhaps Dean ditched him, or maybe he wasn’t even real in the first place. Serves you right, Sam. Why the hell would anyone want to search for you?  
“Sam,” Dean entered the door and took the seat opposite his at the booth.  
“Dean. How are you?”  
“Not bad. You?”  
“Same.”  
Sam waited for Dean to order, a cheeseburger and fries.   
“So Dean, tell me about yourself.”  
“Well, after we got separated, I went to live this one couple,” Dean laughed, “God, they were strange. Bunch of hippies, I think, or at least they dressed that way. After a few years with them, Bobby found me.”  
“Bobby,” Sam repeated. That name sounded familiar.  
“One of Dad’s friends.”  
Sam nodded.  
“Sam, we tried to find you, but you went completely off the map. You weren’t even in school.”  
“Homeschooled.”  
Of course. How else could they keep an eye on you, never let you out of their sight? Have to keep the monster, the chosen one, locked up.  
“Oh,” Dean said, “Well, we did look for you, I promise. Anyway, what about you? What have you been up to? Unless, you don’t want to talk about it.”  
“My p…” Call them what they are, captors, “They’re dead.”  
Dean was taken aback by how casually the words came out. But he understood…Sam had said they were hunters.  
“Something killed them,” Sam added.  
You did, Sam. A monster hunting its prey, you took them out, made sure they’d breathed their last breath.  
“Yeah,” Dean said. Sam must be used to death, he figured, “Happens a lot in the hunting business. Did they teach you to hunt?”  
“They wouldn’t let me,” Sam replied, like he was embarrassed.  
“I see. Bobby taught me to hunt. I can…show you if you’d like.”  
The younger brother shrugged.  
“Sure.”  
…  
Meanwhile, a blue eyed angel awaits a fate that will never happen. A brother who won’t sacrifice himself for a stranger, one that he won’t save from Hell.   
“It’s all wrong,” Castiel said.  
Perhaps, he could fix it, make fate run the way it should. Perhaps he should speak to them early.


	3. Chapter 3

“Room 117. Two beds,” the hotel manager checked the computer, “That’ll be 95 dollars.”  
Dean payed up and was handed the key.  
“Come on, Sam,” Dean called after the man sitting in the lobby, “Room 117.”  
Sam followed the older brother to the hotel room.  
“Right,” Dean lay on the bed closest to the window, “Get some sleep. We’ll leave again in the morning.”  
Sam nodded, taking the other bed.

They’d been on the road all day, Dean at the wheel, toward Bobby’s house. Sam was skeptical when Dean offered to take him to meet Bobby, offered to teach him some hunting techniques. A hunter would know what he was. The last couple weeks, however, they met during Sam’s free time and got to know each other better. And that was when Dean suggested Sam meet Bobby.  
…  
Castiel watched the Impala pull up to Bobby’s house. Two men, brothers, stepped out as the engine turned off. Dean said something inaudible to Sam, who nodded, and disappeared from the angel’s view. He watched, waiting for the brother to return to view. The click of a gun sounded behind him.  
“Who are you?” Dean demanded.  
The angel faced him.  
“Castiel, Angel of the Lord.”  
“An angel?” Dean asked suspiciously.  
“Hey, Dean, what…” Sam caught up with Dean, “Who’s that?”  
“Castiel. Says he’s an angel.”  
“I am. And you are Sam and Dean Winchester.”  
“Why should we believe you?” Dean asked.  
Sam looked at the angel in awe. He believed in angels, believed in God…Believed that, someday, he would be taken out of that place.  
“Wings,” Castiel said, “I have wings.”  
The angel allowed the brothers to view the shadow of his wings. Dean was silent.  
“So, what do you want?” Sam asked.  
What an odd feeling, the angel felt, looking at the two of them.  
“It’s wrong,” Castiel commented.  
“What is?” Dean asked.  
“This,” the angel answered, “You getting separated from each other, and Sam being locked away as a child.”  
“Locked away?” Dean questioned.  
“It’s not important,” Sam swallowed the pain that threatened him.  
“You were treated inhumanely,” Castiel said, oblivious to Sam’s discomfort, “By the hunters who adopted you. I would hardly call that unimportant.”  
Sam balled his fists, his throat tightening, eyes looking in every direction but Dean and the angel.  
“Castiel,” Dean said, “Can I call you Cas?”  
“I suppose.”  
“Cas, you should follow us.”  
“But…”  
“That wasn’t a request.”  
The angel followed the brothers to the house. He could have flown away, but he wanted to gain their trust.  
…  
“We were given orders,” Castiel explained while Bobby and Sam met.  
“We? The other angels?”  
“Yes. But something is wrong.”  
“Me and Sam getting split up.”  
“Yes,” Castiel answered, “But that isn’t all. I’ve been disconnected.”  
“Disconnected.”  
“Angels have a way of speaking to each other telepathically over any distance. However, since I came to Earth, I’ve gotten nothing but silence. No orders whatsoever.”  
“They disowned you.”  
The angel peered at Dean for a moment.  
“It would appear so, and it worries me. And I don’t know what to do.”  
“So, why come to us?”  
“You and Sam are part of something larger than yourselves,” the angel said.  
“What do you mean?”  
“I can’t tell you.”  
Dean grabbed the angel’s trench coat threateningly.  
“I’m sorry,” Castiel said, “They haven’t…told me much.”  
“What do you know?”  
Castiel explained: Sam dies, Dean trades his soul, and the angel helps march his soul out of Hell.  
…  
“Ever shot a gun before?” Dean asked.  
“I…think so,” Sam answered.  
Of course not. Who would give weapons to a monster?  
“Right,” Dean said, “Here, I’ll show you. Then you can try, all right?”  
Sam nodded and Dean aimed for one of the beer bottles atop the ruined car in front of them, hitting it perfectly.  
“Here,” Dean handed the gun to Sam, demonstrating how to hold it, “Try it.”  
He smiled encouragingly as Sam pulled the trigger, hitting the car window under the bottles.  
“Don’t worry,” Dean said, “You’ll get it. With practice.”  
…  
“Inhumane,” Dean commented, “What the hell did he mean by that?”  
“Means he was abused,” Bobby said.  
“He…didn’t tell me.”  
“You’re a stranger to him.”  
“I just…wish I could’ve been there for him.”  
“Well, so do I. But, we can’t change what’s already happened.”


	4. Chapter 4

Monsters don’t get to have brothers, don’t get to send things to their family. Sam knew this, knew that he would get punished, but he didn’t care. He snuck out, the little amulet stuffed inside an addressed shipping envelope in hand. His ‘parents’ found the amulet, said it was powerful, capable of tracking down God himself. Unable to put in in his own mailbox in fear that they’d interject the package, he went to the blue USPS box down the street and plopped it in.  
His ‘parents’ discussed Bobby a few times, Bobby Singer, and how he adopted the ‘freak’s’ brother. A simple search through their hunting journals gave an address, and the amulet a gift idea for a long-lost brother. Walking back in the cold, he prayed the amulet would reach its destination. Entering the house again, what he got was a beating severe enough to land him in the hospital.  
…  
Sam raised his hands up as Dean went to pat him on the shoulder.  
“Sam?”  
Dean is a hunter. Brother or not, he’ll find out what you did, and he’ll put an end to you.  
“What?” Sam asked, “Uh, I’m fine.”  
“You sure?”  
“Yeah,” Sam eyed the amulet around Dean’s neck. If only he knew.  
…  
For two months, Castiel heard nothing on what Dean referred to as “angel radio.” It scared him, not a word from his entire kind, along with what the human exposure was doing to his mind. He was feeling things, human things, like empathy and happiness, and fear.  
“Hey, Cas,” Dean greeted.  
“Hello, Dean. How was the trip?”  
“Good,” Dean answered, “Real good. Sam’s a natural born hunter.”  
“Yes, that is good. And how is he?”  
“He’s…I’m worried about him. Cas, do you know what his parents did?”  
“Yes. But he’s told me not to tell you. He will when he’s ready.”  
…  
Monsters don’t get names. Most of the time, Sam was just dragged around, not addressed, just dragged up the stairs or out of the house, into a car, into a hotel room. When he WAS addressed, it was ‘you’ or ‘kid’ or ‘freak.’ He’d have forgotten it if it weren’t for the legal documents.  
“Don’t look at me like that,” Her voice spoke harshly, “You’re lucky you even get this, after yesterday.”  
The basement was too cold, so he’d snuck upstairs and stole a blanket. It’d earned him another beating, and only leftovers to eat.  
…  
Sam was supposed to be strong, to have an unbreakable exterior to hide what he was feeling. Monsters aren’t allowed to cry, after all. But Dean, the new stranger in his life, was chipping away. Sam was beginning to trust someone.  
“Dean?”  
“Mmm?”  
“Do you…always KILL monsters?”  
“What do you mean?”  
“I mean, if they’re good, they’re not…you know, hurting anybody. Then what?”  
“Leave ‘em alone, I guess,” He hadn’t really thought about it.  
“What if they HAVE hurt someone, but it was only the one time?”  
“What are you getting at?”  
“I killed them,” Sam said, “My…Hell, they’re not my parents. More like damn prison guards. I…stabbed them to death.”  
Dean stared blankly at him, and Sam waited.  
“You think that makes you a monster?”  
“It proves it.”  
“No,” Dean said, “Whatever they did, it pushed you to your breaking point.”  
The younger brother clenched his jaw. Dean was oddly okay with all this.  
“So, the monster thing?”  
“Doesn’t matter. You aren’t one.”  
“You barely know me.”  
“You’re right,” Dean shrugged.  
Sam watched him closely. Strange, the feel of a hand caressing his hair, holding him as he cried, head against Dean’s chest.  
“You didn’t deserve it, whatever they did. You are not a monster.”  
…  
Angels don’t watch over monsters, don’t protect them.  
“You think anyone’s listening?” Taunting laughter filled Sam’s ears, “You think GOD is just gonna drop in, lift you on out of here?”  
“No,” He squeaked, blood dripping from his mouth.  
“And why not?”  
The mantra. Say it, Sam.  
“Because…I’m a monster.”  
“Good.”  
Sam was getting taller, rapidly, and it terrified them. He saw it on their faces. He could fight back, defend himself for once instead of taking it. But, they’d drilled fear and obedience into him.  
…  
Sam jumped when he awoke to Castiel, sitting on his bed and staring at him.  
“Good morning, Sam.”  
“Cas. Were you…watching me sleep?”  
“I was watching over you, yes.”  
“Don’t…stare at people, when they’re sleeping,” Sam commented, “It’s weird.”  
“Of course. My apologies.”  
“It’s okay.”  
“Did you have another nightmare?”  
At least he could wake up from it.  
“Think so.”  
The angel could sense the racing of Sam’s heart, slowing down after he woke up. He wrapped his arms around Sam’s in an embrace.  
“Let go of me,” Sam pulled away.  
“Humans comfort each other with hugs, yes?”  
“I just don’t want to be touched, okay? Not right now.”  
“Of course,” Castiel said, “I’ll leave you alone.”  
“Stay,” Sam requested, “Please?”  
He wanted the company, wanted the angel to watch over him.  
“All right,” Castiel answered.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a concept. Please let me know if you'd like to read more.


End file.
